


Cold Feet

by bustoparadise



Series: The Jenny and The Ox [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Complete, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4220385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bustoparadise/pseuds/bustoparadise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dorian asks to use a dragon's tooth in front of Iron Bull and the Inquisitor, he gets a rather unexpected response—and a very unexpected follow-up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Feet

They'd only blown the horn an hour ago and already the corpse of the Hivernal was crawling with Inquisition soldiers. They were stripping the dragon of her hide, cutting away at her muscles to get to the valuable bone. Dorian felt sad for the beast until he remembered that a simulacrum had fought as him after she'd blasted him with ice before he could get his Barrier up. The regeneration potion Vivienne had forced down his throat after the simulacrum faded had diminished the worst of the pain, at least.

Iron Bull and Sera were near the dragon's head with Adder, who held a dragon's bloody tooth, which reminded him of something he'd meant to do for a while. A high dragon tooth wrapped in that fade-touched nugskin Adder had picked up recently would look magnificent on Purity's Light; a touch barbaric considering his favourite staff's smooth lines and fine metal, but also quite intimidating. He glanced at the Soulfire staff he'd used for this fight. _It wouldn't look half bad with this one, either. Maybe I'll ask for two._

By now, Dorian knew what Iron Bull and Sera were talking about: the Bull was giving his run down on the battle, sometimes professionally but mostly rhapsodically when it came to the dragon, and Sera was jabbering her commentary just as loudly. As Dorian approached the group, Sera kissed Adder deeply then scampered off—or so it appeared until she darted back in to slap Adder's rear. Then she ran away for real, cackling. Adder's breath steamed in a long sigh as she rolled her eyes, but her smile protested that she didn't hate these exuberant expressions of affection too much.

“Dorian!” shouted Iron Bull, though Dorian was close enough that a regular speaking volume would have sufficed. “Some fight, huh?”

“A challenge, certainly.” He needed to speak before Iron Bull dominated the conversation once more. “Adder, may I reserve a dragon's tooth when we return to Skyhold?” He'd try his luck with just one first.

Both Adder and Iron Bull's gazes sharpened and a distinct pause followed.

“Yes!” Adder blurted out, beaming as she looked between Dorian and Iron Bull. “Here! Take this one.” She handed him the tooth she'd just pried out, still pink with blood.

Dorian wrinkled his nose and handed it back. “Ah, I don't need one quite so fresh....” He'd never anticipated this much glee from a simple request for crafting materials before.

“What do you need the tooth for?” Iron Bull asked carefully.

“A staff blade, but you both clearly think I meant something else, so out with it.”

Adder grimaced, shooting the Bull an apologetic glance. “Oh. That makes a lot more sense.”

“Yeah, we're not at that stage yet,” Iron Bull said, chuckling. “Your parents tell you about the necklace, boss?”

“My father made ones for my mother and me. Of course, they were boar-tooth necklaces—Dad was a bit of a chickenshit—but we all pretended they were real.” She nudged Iron Bull in the ribs. “You never forget the first lie you ever told, right?”

“Well, I have, but I've told a lot.”

“And for the non-Qunari among us....” Dorian said. They could at least get to the point. Were their thick Qunari hides just impervious to the biting wind?

“Adder thought you wanted to make a necklace of the kadan,” Iron Bull said. “It's an old Qunari tradition for people you care about, romantically or otherwise: you split a high dragon's tooth in half, keeping one half for yourself and the other half for your kadan—your heart.”

“Ah.” Dorian's stomach jolted. _We're not there yet, he said. It's a common enough expression, of course._ “Well, it's just for a staff blade.”

“So, boss, why were you holding that dragon's tooth?” Iron Bull asked. He didn't need to glance at where Sera was talking to Cassandra to make his implication known.

“I was thinking of making a dagger for Cole. I feel sort of guilty that I hog all the best daggers. It can be his 'welcome to humanity' present!”

Dorian chuckled. “'Welcome to humanity―now here's a better way to kill things!' Not exactly a ringing endorsement of my species. Perhaps a cake would be more appropriate?” He stomped his feet to keep the blood flowing.

“He doesn't eat.”

“A hat, then.”

“Oh―that's a much better idea.”

“I do,” he coughed some phlegm from his throat, “have some ideas.” Solas, Blackwall and Sera were ridiculously attached to what Dorian could charitably call their wardrobes, but Cole seemed much more malleable. All Dorian needed was to tell Cole his giant hat hid his features and made him seem untrustworthy, making it harder for him to help people, particularly since it seemed to be getting harder for him to become invisible whenever it pleased him.

“A dagger for Cole,” Iron Bull said. “That was smooth, boss. You might've fooled me, if I'd been a rookie.”

She huffed. “One day, I'll be able to lie to you, Bull.”

“Oh, you've got some skills.” Iron Bull paused, then said with a smirk, “If the Qun had gotten ahold of you, the Ben-Hassrath could've made you great.” Unease looped cold coils around Dorian's stomach—identical to what he'd felt when Adder first started teasing Iron Bull about becoming Tal-Vashoth—but Adder dispelled it with a sudden, genuine laugh, as the Bull had when Adder first started laying into him.

Schooling her features to blankness, she flatly said, “Letting some Vashoth in would be a disgrace. It might lead to her thinking individual thoughts, the greatest danger the Qun faces.” Then she grinned. “Little taste of home for you, Bull?”

“The Qun will take anyone who commits to them sincerely,” Iron Bull said. Dorian saw no signs of pain—just someone politely correcting a misconception. It was Adder who looked apprehensive that Iron Bull hadn't kept playing along. “And they know viddathari struggle with certain concepts. You get at least three individual thoughts before they make you into a mindless labourer.” Iron Bull chuckled, smacking Adder on the shoulder, and whatever tension was between them dissipated.

“As for this,” she gestured to the tooth, “you caught me in a daydream.”

“No Corypheus, a healed sky, you wandering the world with your Valo-Kas and your lover at your side, having adventures?” Dorian guessed.

Adder winced. “Adventuring stopped being daydream fodder since Haven. Now it's me and Sera living someplace far from Thedas that's never even heard of the Inquisition. We have a little house.” Her gaze went distant. “Sera runs a bakery and I breed mabari hounds.”

 _How disgustingly domestic!_ “Do you, ah, knit your own doilies and sell jam at the market every—” Dorian managed to get through that much without snickering.

“With Sera around? She'd eat all the jam. We sell tea.”

Dorian tried to pretend his guffaw was a sneeze and failed, judging by Adder's huff.

“I'm leaving you here to freeze to death, Dorian Pavus. Know that you brought this on yourself.” She chuckled. “Hey, if it gets me through the day, right? I wasn't seriously going to give her a necklace of the kadan. That's just....” She shrugged. “You know.”

“It does seem a rather serious commitment,” Dorian commented, rubbing his gloved hands together to keep some feeling in his fingers.

“Thank you! All this time around Sera and I'm losing my words. Okay, Dorian, you can stay with the Inquisition. For now.”

“Happy to help, my friend. Now, if you'll excuse me, the effects of my regeneration potion are wearing off and I'm sure frostbite is starting to set in. I'll see you back at camp.” He paused, weighed a warm fire against having the last word, and decided to risk it. “I'll leave you to your daydreaming of knitting clothes for darling, towheaded orphans or whatever twee fancy your mind conjures next.”

“I'm going to regret telling you about that, aren't I?”

Dorian was already wondering if there was a book on tea somewhere at Skyhold. Giving it to Adder wouldn't make up for all the pranks she and Sera have pulled on him, but it would be a start. “All right, all right, no more. I promise.”

* * *

None of these southerners understood how terribly the cold affected Dorian. His entire body rebelled against it. Every day was a grey blur until he collapsed in his tent and waited for his sore, slimy throat and streaming nose to deign to let him rest. He needed days in Skyhold of just sleep and warmth to recuperate after coming back from Emprise du Lion. Potions could only do so much, and they were much more useful when ones guts were hanging out than when one was coughing their lungs out, unfortunately.

So Dorian was awake when Iron Bull pulled his tent flap aside and let in a rush of cold air Dorian managed to feel even though he was bundled in four layers of fur.

“Are you utterly mad?” Dorian demanded.

At least Iron Bull dropped the tent flap quickly. “I think I've heard one too many complaints about the cold from you.”

“A little frustration is perfectly natural—”

“Every single day—on an assignment you could have declined—is too damn much.”

“And leave you all to flail about without my skills? Perish the thought. Though, even if I agreed with you—and I don't—how exactly does ripping apart my tent while I'm trying to sleep help?”

In response, Iron Bull moved to stand over him. Dorian was about to say 'Yes, what?' when Iron Bull sat down and pulled Dorian onto his lap, scooting forward so that when he lay down his massive horned head could hit the pillow of Dorian's bedroll. Iron Bull burned hot; he was like a warm fire at Dorian's back.

“There,” Iron Bull murmured, ruffling Dorian's hair. “You big fop.”

 _Ah, so that's why he's here._ Dorian twisted around to kiss him. When he deepened the kiss, however, Iron Bull pulled away. Dorian blinked, startled. The Bull hadn't seriously thought they'd snuggle chastely, had he? _A notion I must disabuse him of._

“If we get sweaty, the sweat will cool,” Iron Bull said. Dorian heard the smile in his voice and responded by kissing his neck. “You’ll get _colder_.” Dorian twisted fully around and straddled his lover, both to kiss more comfortably and run his hands beneath his harness, lingering on his nipples. “Making my visit entirely useless.” A nip to the throbbing pulse at his throat prompted a long-suffering, “You're like trying to train a puppy sometimes....” Iron Bull was hoping Dorian would protest, would huff and puff, but Dorian responded by scratching his fingernails across Iron Bull's tight slab of a stomach in random trails.

“Who knew someone who calls himself ‘the Iron Bull’ talked so damned much?” Dorian began to kiss what he could of Iron Bull's massive chest, stopping to circle his nipple with his tongue. His lover's stomach muscles quivered. “Should have named yourself the Iron Parrot.”

And still the bastard kept talking, his voice as untouched by Dorian's ministrations as it had been before the kiss. “Well...if you're fine with everyone teasing you tomorrow....”

“By all means, sing it from the rooftops.” His hands switched to rubbing along the Bull's thighs while Dorian licked a suggestive line just above where the top of his pants met skin. “Give them positions. What do I care?”

“Heh, I won’t need to say anything.” Iron Bull's cock began rising; Dorian's pulse was drumming against his throat and his breath was hitching just with the anticipation of what it could do to him. _He hasn't even touched me yet—keep it together!_ “You’re _loud_ , Dorian. Everyone will hear you.”

The words took a few moments to sink in. “Forgive me―did you just accuse _me_ of being the loud one? I’ve gone partially deaf as you snort and bellow.”

“It’s something I can turn on and off.” And he was trying to prove it, too, keeping his voice so smooth, as if his body wasn't yearning for this just as Dorian's was. “You can’t.”

Dorian gathered enough wits to sit back and say, “Sounds like a challenge,” in his haughtiest tone. Now that he was farther away from the Bull, it was easier to think. They had no form of lubrication, no ropes and nothing to tie them to if they'd had them, no strong illumination, none of the props that had become the hallmark of their love-play. “A challenge in more ways than one, as I'll be unrestrained. Can you handle that, I wonder?”

Iron Bull laughed long and loud, and Dorian hated to admit he caught his breath at the thought that anyone had heard him. “Dorian, there are five ways to restrain you within my reach. Seven if I really try. And, for the record, I've been tying you up—”

Suddenly, the Bull was in close, with a speed that shouldn't be possible for someone so large. His hands were on Dorian's wrists and he stretched Dorian's arms so high over his head that his muscles burned, crossing them at the wrists. The furs fell from Dorian's shoulders.

The gasp that escaped Dorian was not an auspicious start to the challenge. Neither were his tight nipples that he could only imagine showed through his nightshirt. _At least I'm not hard._ Though Iron Bull had months of repetition and muscle-memory on his side: a wave of lust took Dorian and his body sank beneath it. His blood rushed downward, his muscles shivered, his skin started growing slick with sweat. Iron Bull would have him soon enough.

“—Because you can't argue with these results,” Iron Bull finished smugly. “It's definitely,” he dropped Dorian's hands, as if he were giving him a gift, “not the only thing I—”

Before Iron Bull could say anything else, Dorian lunged forward and kissed him. _The best defence is a good offence._ To his surprise, Iron Bull didn't push him down. He was letting Dorian take the lead. He enjoyed the feel of his lover around him—the scarred chest pressed against him, the horns beneath his questing fingers, the Maker-cursed smell of warm metal—but couldn't sink into it as he normally did, too busy sorting through his options.

He chose, unfortunately, the worst possible one. He hadn't quite considered how difficult fellatio would be with a cold. When he wasn't coughing or sneezing, his nose was streaming. Dorian was in no danger of making Iron Bull lose his head with ecstasy—the Qunari's shoulders shook with silent mirth the second time Dorian had to lift his head and dab at his nose with his handkerchief.

'Damned weather,' Dorian mouthed, gesturing angrily at the walls of the tent, where the wind howled outside.

Iron Bull rolled his eye, opened his arm and gestured for Dorian to come in close. He thrust his hips a little for emphasis.

Dorian pretended to just have noticed his erection, pantomiming surprise and confusion.

Iron Bull raised his eyebrow, then silently applauded—he and Adder sometimes accused Dorian of seeking such when he was being too clever for them. He gestured Dorian back into his arms more fiercely this time, with, Dorian thought, a touch of irritation.

After a little bow—that turned into another wipe of his nose—Dorian closed the distance between them once more.

Dorian had to settle for stroking Iron Bull's length while biting and sucking his nipples. Iron Bull's thick hand pressed Dorian closer, urging him on, rewarding him with kisses and bites along his shoulders and the back of his neck. The Bull's muscles quivered. His breath came fast. There was no hiding that he was enjoying this immensely—and quietly.

Dorian hadn't finished when Iron Bull moved, so slowly and gently that Dorian was on his back, surrounded by rich, warm furs, before he could realize what this meant. Iron Bull slowly spread his buttocks apart, tongue swiping along the inside. A frisson of surprise shot through Dorian—he hadn't exactly prepared for any intimate activities—but his level of cleanliness must have been acceptable, for the Bull certainly wasted little time. After a few shallow strokes, the Bull's tongue slid in deeply and pressed against the centre of Dorian's pleasure—and, at the same time, his thumb circled the head of Dorian's cock.

Perfectly timed, of course: lightning arced up his spine, made him gasp. He pursed his lips against any further noise. _Does Bull think this is all it takes? I'm insulted._ He'd had lovers who insisted on silence before.

Iron Bull tried a few more all-out assaults—it felt as if Dorian were trying to keep his footing in an earthquake—but twitches and gasps were all he received. Dorian was feeling rather proud of himself until his lover completely pulled out. He nipped at Dorian's thighs, caressed him slightly, but that was it.

The frustration of going from massive stimulation to a mockery of such had Dorian seeing red. He clenched his jaw against bitter words. Instead, he raised his head, looking quizzically at his lover.

Iron Bull just watched him, smiling slightly.

It was only when he murmured “Is something—” that Iron Bull's smile broadened and he stroked Dorian's cock briefly. _Ah. A reward for making noise._ Dorian glowered, but Iron Bull seemed utterly unrepentant. He kept Dorian's interest from flagging with a touch here, a pinch there, but nothing where Dorian was desperate for. The sweat along Dorian's back and sides began to cool, and he started shivering. _Hmm. Lie here and shiver, try to seduce him into forgetting the challenge, or just give in._ Option one was not happening, but with cooling lust came an increase in rational thought.

“That dragon fight today was something, wasn't it?” Dorian whispered, voice thick.

Iron Bull smirked, then raised an eyebrow. 'Yes, and?'

Dorian wracked his brain for any of the details Iron Bull liked to go on about. “The way it...roared. And, er, flapped its massive wings. And....” _And today I learned that there's no way for me to make talking about a blasted high dragon erotic._

He was, at least, given a few blissful moments of Iron Bull's hand on his cock. Enough to stoke a fire that wouldn't be quenched until he gave in.

Dorian knew by now what submission brought him.

“Bull!” Dorian snapped at full volume. “You ass!”

Iron Bull laughed, and it occurred to Dorian how rarely he'd seen him delighted since leaving the Qun. The thought vanished when Iron Bull rewarded Dorian and himself. The world narrowed to just the two of them, and what did it matter how loud Dorian was then?

When they were finished, Iron Bull lay on his back and Dorian cuddled beside him, wrapped in furs. Usually, after one of their liaisons, Dorian needed a few moments by himself to pull himself together. He pretended that this time he wasn't going to snuggle up against the Qunari. He always did, but the fact that his lover let him make the first move meant a lot. This time, he didn't need that moment to settle. The sex had been fantastic, of course―but it hadn't completely sent him over the precipice. _The Iron Bull is like every other lover._ Dorian hadn't experienced that until now, and found it refreshing.

“So I am the loud one,” Dorian said. Why had that bothered him so much? “Fair enough.”

“Only after I pulled out a dirty trick. You held your own, big guy.” Iron Bull squeezed Dorian's buttock fondly. “Wish I could've gone all out. Ah well. When we're back at Skyhold.”

_Oh, of course. The only reason it wasn't perfect was because he didn't want it to be. Naturally._

Once he'd finally caught his breath, Dorian reached up and began scratching the base of Iron Bull's left horn.

“Thanks.” He sounded surprised.

“Am I doing it wrong?”

“Just didn’t think I told you how itchy my horns get. Not all of us complain about everything all the time.”

“You must have mentioned it to or around Varric. He’s quite the gossip.”

“Ain't that the truth.”

The Bull had said other things to Varric, this time in Dorian's hearing: _“Love is a bit soft. Love is all starlight and gentle blushes.” He wants passion. Qunari don't connect sex and love. It's only stupid humans that confuse lust and comfort with love._

Dorian started scratching the base of the right horn. _But...today he said “yet.” “We're not there yet.”_

 _Stop being mad. Tevinter and Qunari. A witty, learned mage and a crude mercenary. Everybody can see it's a disaster waiting to happen. He meant “We're not there yet, we don't want to be, and that works for us.”_ It wasn't so terrible that, ripped from the only worlds they'd ever known, two people might desire some uncomplicated release.

After a few more moments of scratching, Dorian asked, “Is this even helping at all?”

“Nope. No offence, though; your fingers just aren’t strong enough. I appreciate the thought.”

“You should thrash your horns against trees. Deer do it to rub the velvet off their antlers.”

“They’re not antlers,” Bull grumbled.

“I meant it only as an example.”

An idea struck Dorian. “Although....” He channelled a bit of lightning into his fingers, then scratched again.

Iron Bull twitched. “ _Oh_. That's...that works.” He heaved a big sigh and his eye drifted shut as Dorian ran his fingers along the base.

“The spell has quite a few applications,” Dorian couldn't help but note. He waited for Iron Bull's customary 'no magic in the bedroom' grumble and was surprised when it didn't come. He got a short, intrigued grunt instead. _Seems all he needed was a practical demonstration._

“You know,” Iron Bull murmured, “some of the Chargers have asked about you.”

“Asked you how you snared someone as handsome and erudite as myself?”

“Asked if you're going to be travelling with the Chargers if we take contracts outside of the Inquisition once we kick Corypheus' ass. I don't sleep with my men, so if you want to join me and the boys on one of our merc trips, you obviously couldn't be a Charger.”

“I take enough orders from you, don't you think?”

“Even if you had the spirit for it, which you _don't_. But now I think I've got the perfect place for you: my horn-scratcher. You'll have to be within reach at all times for when I need an itch scratched.”

“I won't be scratching any itches if you don't try a little harder with your innuendos―that one caused physical pain.” _There are people that think about me and Iron Bull. Together. As a couple. The two of us. We've been travelling together for more than a year, we've been having fun for a few months, it's only natural to assume...._

_And he said “yet.”_

_Oh, damn it all!_

Despite the panic fluttering in his gut, Dorian forced himself to calmly say, “Earlier today, you said we weren't ready for a necklace of the kadan 'yet.' I'm curious as to what you meant.”

Iron Bull chuckled. “Hot damn. So we are going to talk about this.” He sounded so smug that Dorian's teeth were immediately on edge.

“Ah. I see.” Now it all made sense: leaving Dorian all evening to stew on that one word, the sex to lower his guard, bringing up the Chargers and the vision of a rosy, Corypheus-free future. “So that's what all this was? Some Ben-Hassrath interrogation technique?”

Iron Bull bellowed another laugh and twisted onto his side so he could better talk to Dorian. “I wish all our interrogations were this fun. Come on—if I'd asked you point blank 'Hey, are we a thing?' you wouldn't have evaded?”

 _That does sound like me, yes._ “And this is the part where you explain that you know everything about me because of the way I blink or how often I sneeze.”

“I know a lot, sure. I've deduced more. But not everything. And I know shit about how 'us' can work.”

 _Us._ It startled Dorian that his first sensation was relief. He wasn't going mad. Iron Bull had thought about it, too. The Bull might even have been nervous, of all things, and wanted to bring it up at the appropriate time—a concern of a regular person, not the perfect Qunari spy.

“Well...not manipulating me seems a reasonable start,” Dorian noted. “I might have wanted to talk earlier. We'll never know now, will we?” _I can't believe I'm complaining about amazing sex. I should mark this on my calendar._

Iron Bull chuckled, softer this time, a tightness around his eye. “Yeah, the part where I can't turn the Ben-Hassrath thing off would be a good reason to keep this fun. And the part where you might have to put me down like a mad dog.”

He'd heard that insane fancy of Iron Bull's before, that becoming Tal-Vashoth was one step on a gradual path to madness, and he immediately said, “Bull, you're not going to—”

“I know what we become without the Qun,” Iron Bull said heavily, sitting up, his gaze distant. Dorian sat too, rearranging the furs so they covered both of them. “I saw it in Seheron for years. And nobody gets it. Adder's had all her life to turn her rage into jokes and smirks. How she deals with anger works for her, but it can't for me. And there are no re-educators here. No one to turn to if I start to fall.” He snorted. “Everyone tries to make me feel better. They say they'll bring me down if I turn savage. How many lives will that cost? How much damage will I do first?

“Any lover will need to watch out for that. I won't be able to see when madness starts. And I will not be the one to hurt this Inquisition or the Chargers or any of my people. I would die before that happened.”

He glanced at Dorian and gave him a tiny, grim smile. “You think I know all your shit? Here's some of mine.”

Dorian took a few moments to wrap his mind around how deep his lover's fear ran. He'd been open about it, but Dorian hadn't quite taken him seriously. He was the Iron Bull, and nothing could ever touch him. Some part of Dorian quipped 'A lover as an early-warning device—you Qunari don't waste anything, do you?', but he wrestled that from his tongue. It wasn't fair to Iron Bull.

Into the silence, Iron Bull's smile relaxed, became a bit warmer. “Yeah, it's a lot to put on what we've been doing.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “I'd accept the burden, even so.” The ugly cough that doubled him over stripped some of the poignancy from the moment, he imagined.

Dorian could foresee his future without Iron Bull well enough; he'd been forcing himself to under the assumption that his lover saw no future for them. But to have Iron Bull there.... It complicated things enormously. _But let it never be said that I shied away from a challenge._

Iron Bull gave him a Ben-Hassrath stare. “Really? And you'd bring me down if you had to?”

“I would.” Dorian only realized he was lying once he spoke. How strange and terrifying, to realize how deeply Iron Bull had permeated his life without Dorian knowing it.

Iron Bull caught the lie, of course; he smiled fondly and stroked Dorian's cheek with his thumb. “You're a pretty shit Tevinter if you can't even kill a Qunari.”

“I live to disappoint my countrymen.” He swallowed. “I'd try, if it became necessary. Which it won't.” That, at least, was the truth.

“I hope you're right.” Iron Bull let out a long breath. “Okay. So...we're doing this.”

And that was that. A relationship. The earth didn't shake, the stars remained fixed in the heavens. The wind howled outside the tent. The wind he would have to go out into tomorrow morning.

Iron Bull pulled him close with a grin. “If it helps, I also really wanted to bang you.”

“You're a poet, Bull. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

* * *

Dorian had to deal with Sera, Adder and Varric's applause when he left his tent that morning. He'd anticipated it, at least, and contrived to look smug and knowing rather than irritated, which would only encourage them.

Adder ambushed him when he came back from the latrines. “So, you had a visitor last night. That's new.”

“It is.”

Her orange eyes gleamed. “Thanks for not burning the tent down.”

He winced. _Bull, you ass! Set the curtains on fire one time...._ A loss of magical control was even more embarrassing to a mage trained in control since childhood.

“Is this going to happen often?” Adder said. “I only just kept Sera from starting a noise-making competition last night.” Sera slept in the Inquisitor's tent more often than not, though sometimes she randomly slept on her own. Not because she and Adder were fighting, as Dorian had initially assumed, but for reasons Sera couldn't quite articulate when asked.

“It was a terrible trial, I imagine.”

“Yes, yes it was. You know what's also new? You responding to my observation about Iron Bull without wincing, huffing or snapping...until I started officially teasing you, that is.”

 _I'm not that bad, am I?_ “I supposed I'm getting used to the oaf. We are in a relationship, after all.”

“Oh.” Her slight surprise became happiness. “I'm glad. You two make each other happy.”

Dorian couldn't help wondering how long that would last. It was easier to be cynical, outside of Iron Bull's arms. “So, thoughts? Advice? Teasing?”

“Advice? Am I some sage mentor on a mountaintop?” Dorian was surprised she hadn't gone straight to teasing. “I've never been with anyone for longer than a few months. You could probably mentor me.”

Dorian scoffed at the very thought.

Her gaze found Sera, huddling by the fire with Varric. Adder's expression went fond and wistful. _The start of another daydream._ She shook herself back to the present, huffed a laugh and commented, “Sometimes, I almost like that we've got a world to save. If all I had to focus on was relationship stuff, I'd be lost. So, no advice. But my good wishes.”

“The mockery will come later when I least expect it.”

“I hope to be teasing you about this for a long time. I can't waste all my good lines now.” She leaned in close, an excited grin brightening her face. “Although, I did just have a thought: double commitment ceremony, me and Sera, you and Bull.” She held up a hand. “I know, I know, but hear me out: picture Mother Giselle's face when I announce it.”

“Oh. And now I _am_ tempted.” He was also taking a vicious pleasure in imagining his father hearing about it.

“I know, right?”

“I'd be in charge of the decorations and fashion, of course. Ah! We could get you in a dre—” her raised eyebrow and 'just try it' stare force him to change course abruptly “—dre...vine hat.”

“Drevine?”

“An old Tevene word for magnificent. Though now that I think about, we should probably just wear armor. No sense in getting our good clothes messy.”

“Hmm?”

“Sera is involved, after all. We should issue a hazard warning with the invitations.”

A faint frown appeared between Adder's brows. “My lover isn't a child, Dorian. She got through the Winter Palace without staging some sort of whacky food fight.”

For a moment, Dorian was too stunned to speak. “Adder...that's literally what happened. She staged. A foodfight. At the Winter Palace. You participated in it!”

At least Adder looked abashed. “Ohhhh, yeah. I wondered why that example sprang to mind so quickly.” Her embarrassment faded, replaced by a fond grin. “We were _so_ drunk.”

_Love truly does make fools of us._

Catching his eye, she shrugged. “What? I'd just danced with an elf in front of all the names in Orlais! How much more could my reputation have fallen after that?”

“Mmm, fair. You know, with Empress Celene and Briala, you and Sera, and the King of Ferelden and the Hero of Ferelden—so rumour has it—perhaps elven lovers will be the new fashion. Instead of being servants at parties, elves will be hired out as dance partners.”

“And elven rights move ever onward.”

They discussed their fake ceremony until breakfast was served. The inner circle had another day of dragon hunting to do; catching Iron Bull's eye, Dorian couldn't help but look forward to tonight.


End file.
